Burn slow (before you go)
by perpetually-prototyping
Summary: The role of Shepherd has brought on a lot of firsts, but this is the last kind of burden Sorey would have expected. [Sorey/Alisha, slight canon AU]


Despite the summer humidity, Marlind's evening air felt cool on Sorey's hot skin as he stepped out onto the inn's porch. It was quiet out here, silent but for the usual sounds of nature in the cricket chirps and owl calls and warm breeze through the surrounding foliage. Closing his eyes, he could almost convince himself he was back in Elysia again—almost, because there was still a stain in the air, a weight on his shoulders that his home village had never had.

When he opened them again, he frowned. Not at his homesickness, but at the foreign feeling that rippled through him again, the same odd sensation he'd been experiencing for over a full day now. It had been easy enough to ignore at first—he'd still been buzzing with adrenaline, excitement, and power after leaving Igraine, and this one feeling out of many didn't really catch his attention. Now, however, it was obvious, and troublesome. It wasn't _bad_, necessarily, just new and confusing, especially since he still couldn't tell if it was a physical or emotional kind of feeling.

Rubbing his arm absently, he moved around the building towards the back of the porch, which would give him more privacy and a better view of the town—and stopped short when he realized he wasn't alone.

Alisha was leaning against the railing, arms folded as she stared skyward. Sorey considered retreating—a reflexive and unconscious thought, which was perhaps another sign of how off he felt—but she noticed him immediately. "Oh! Sorey! What are you doing up?"

"Ah… just… getting some air," he replied, answering her smile with a similar one. "It was feeling kind of stuffy in there." That much was truthful.

"I'm just sorting through some thoughts. But you're welcome to join me," she offered brightly.

He was a couple seconds slower to answer than he would normally have been. Did her face look… different than usual? Softer? Or was he imagining it?

Her hair was down and she had removed her outer clothes and armor; that was probably it, he figured. Pushing the thought aside, he approached and also set his arms on the rail to share her view, their shoulders comfortably close but not touching.

"You're setting out first thing in the morning, correct?"

He nodded. "Your lead was a big help, but there's still no telling how long it might take us to find the next shrine. I don't want to loiter too long."

"I hope you're not overexerting yourself." She turned towards him openly, studying him with a serious but kind expression, and Sorey found he couldn't hold her gaze very long. Something about it made that off-feeling deepen.

"Nah, I mean—I have the others looking after me. You know how they are. And Rose, now, too."

"Yes. But I know how you are, as well," Alisha teased. "Which is why I think I'll always worry a little, even though I know you'll be alright."

"Well, concern's never a bad thing. Just as long as you don't overexert yourself, either." He was certainly one to talk.

Alisha chuckled. Sorey rubbed at his arm again. "Well said. I suppose we could both stand to take more things in moderation."

He hummed his agreement distractedly. Even in his short-sleeved shirt, he actually felt warmer now than before. Was he just sick, perhaps? Maybe so, and the veiled thoughts and feelings in the back of his mind were just a blend of impatience regarding the shrines and anxiety about Heldalf and lingering grief over Forton…

But none of that explained why being near Alisha suddenly made him feel awkward, even uncomfortable. She was normally a relief and a joy for him to see, but now he felt misplaced, a little lost, as though he were intruding somehow. Looking at her made him tense and intently aware of his quick, heavy pulse and damp palms.

"Sorey?" Her voice breaking into his thoughts was like cool water down his back: startling, but not unwanted. She wore a thoughtful frown. "You look flushed. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I, um…"

She reached up to place a cool hand against his forehead and he froze. Normally he wouldn't have batted an eye at the casual contact, but as she studied his face in thought he did the same to hers—not out of concern, but a sudden interest he'd never had before, towards her or anyone else.

He'd noticed the gentle shape of her eyes, the sharp, strong lines of her jaw, the smooth texture of her skin before now. They were always background details that he saw and noted without much thought, but now they caught his attention. Now they were interesting.

"Hmm… you don't feel all that warm," she told him. Her touch fell away and there might have been a part of him that was disappointed, but his eyes fell to her mouth as she spoke and suddenly that was fascinating. Her lips looked soft, like her skin—and in equal parts objective curiosity and that constant, beating _something else_, Sorey wondered how they would feel beneath a gentle brush of his fingers, if only he were to reach out and cup her face in his hand—

"Sorey?" Alisha was staring at him.

His train of thought shattered and he took a reflexive, uncomfortable step back. "Sorry," he blurted, "I was—ah…"

"Is something wrong?"

"No. No, nothing's… no," he stammered. He tried to sound indifferent, but his attempt at a joking tone came out tight and unconvincing. "I'm just…" He forced himself to look at her and there was that concern again, that pinched brow and anxious glint in her eyes. It made him feel a twinge of guilt, but it also helped calm him down and gather his thoughts.

"I'm… fine," he tried again, seriously this time. "Totally fine, really. I just… I'm—I've been feeling kind of… weird. Lately."

"Weird? 'Weird' how?"

"Like…" He made an indistinct gesture with his hands. "Sort of… restless. Like I'm missing something? But it's… more than that. I'm almost—itchy? I guess?" he said doubtfully, clearly at a loss. "But not—really, I just…"

For a moment Alisha only stared at him again—and then she quickly ducked her head, covering her mouth as she hid a smile. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, clearing her throat as she looked up again, but her attempt at a straight face immediately faltered. "It isn't—funny, really—I only—"

Her smile was contagious—and pretty. Sorey shook his head with an apologetic grin. "No, it's fine. It's… honestly pretty ridiculous, I agree."

"No—I just wasn't expecting… that."

"It definitely wasn't the best way of phrasing it," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let me try again. It's like…" He withheld a sigh. This was more frustrating than it had any right to be. "Maybe it's… more like… I want something. But I'm not sure what. I just feel… warm all the time, like… my body's on edge. Kind of like how I feel in a fight, but… not." The more he spoke, the less sense he made even to himself.

But Alisha took it seriously, crossing her arms pensively. "What did the others say?"

"I, uh… didn't tell anyone else. I thought it was something that would pass, but… this is the worst it's been."

He could tell Alisha didn't approve of that, but she only asked, "How long have you felt like this?"

"Ever since leaving the fire shrine." It probably was something he just needed to ask Lailah about. She might know exactly what the problem was and how to fix it. "It's… probably just a side effect of the spiritual powers," he reasoned. "Nothing hurts or anything. It's just… distracting."

"That's good to hear, at least. Perhaps it's similar to making pacts with the seraphim, and you'll grow immune to it before long."

"Maybe, yeah." Except the effects of the pacts had been purely physical. This was more than that. "...Anyway, I didn't mean to worry you with this."

"Worrying never harmed anyone. And I'd rather you be comfortable and open with me than keeping secrets for my sake," she assured him. Her smile returned and he fought the urge to look at her mouth again.

Comfortable. Right.

Alisha turned back to the railing and his eyes followed her. She looked more relaxed with her hair down, he thought, less rigid and closed off without her armor. She seemed smaller, too, in relation to the world around her, as if her uniform was all that divided the stubborn, driven princess on the outside and the normal human girl on the inside.

That was probably close to the truth, Sorey mused. It gave him a mingled sense of pride and concern.

It occurred to him that hadn't responded to her last remark and for a moment he inwardly stumbled as he recalled what she'd said. "Well—ah—it… helps that you're easy to talk to." He joined her again, the shift of his weight against the rail a bit heavier than before. He tried to focus on the trees, on the rough wood against his skin, anything to break that awkward impulse that kept prompting him to look at her longer than necessary.

"You're the first to say that." Her voice dropped a little. He risked a glance over and saw her lower her head, a wistful sort of look on her face. "Though I think it's more so that you have a way of talking easily with others. I envy you in that regard."

"Heh, I don't know. My big mouth has gotten me in trouble plenty of times back home. And I've been told that I can be… socially clueless sometimes, apparently."

Alisha lifted her fist as if to cough into it, but a second glance revealed a vain attempt to smother another smile.

"Hey, not you, too!" He leaned over to bump her shoulder with his own, much gentler than he would have done with Mikleo. "Am I really that bad?"

She laughed openly now, a clear and uplifting sound that made his pulse speed up again. "I was just… thinking of when we first met," she replied. "I did think you were a bit of an odd one at the time."

He tilted his head in a half-nod of acknowledgement. "_Yeah,_ well… you _were_ the first human I ever saw. I'll admit I was a little starstruck."

When Alisha didn't respond, he looked down and was surprised to see a dusting of pink color in her cheeks, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"...What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing, I didn't—I only—um…"

"Was… that not the right word?"

She quickly shook her head. "No, it… it was fine. You just…" She turned her face up towards him, still a little red, but cheerful. "...have a way of surprising me, Sorey."

He hadn't retreated from his joking push, so they were still shoulder-to-shoulder, and close enough that he felt compelled to lower his voice some. He felt warmer still, inside and out. "When you say it that way, I can't tell if it's a good or bad thing," he admitted.

She set her hand on his arm, skin to skin, in a light, friendly squeeze, and with that distraction he barely heard her next words. "Always a good thing."

Her voice had dropped a little as well, now a soft murmur, and it sent chills down Sorey's spine like nothing ever had before. Her touch on his skin burned, but in a way he liked, and now pulling his gaze from her face felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done.

He knew what he wanted. He'd been aware of it for the last few minutes, but every part of his normal, logical, and largely neutral-minded self had ignored it, disregarded it, and argued against it. This wasn't _him_ at all, but this weird and uncharacteristic feeling—and yet there must have been some of _him_ in this strange longing somewhere, for it to have focused so intently on Alisha. Not Rose, not Lailah, no one else but the girl he considered himself closest to—and with whom, as he had openly admitted, he was once curiously captivated, and maybe still was, a little.

She answered his open stare with a questioning look, as if expecting a response along with it, and after a moment Sorey found his voice.

"Alisha, um… about that… feeling I mentioned…"

"The weird one?"

"Right. I think I might…" He frowned. "It… It's got me wanting to do something… kind of stupid. Well—" he amended quickly, "not, uh… not _stupid_, really, that's not… but… it isn't…"

Alisha didn't interrupt his stammering. She watched him attentively and patiently, undoubtedly eager to know if she could help.

"I'd… ask you not to take this the wrong way, but…" He shifted his weight distractedly, incidentally leaning into her a little more. "It's like… I need to do… something... to get rid of this feeling, and… I think—the only thing that sounds—right—is…"

He suddenly realized he had placed his hand over hers—and was caressing it while he spoke. Not subtly, either, but by running his fingers gently between hers, back and forth, while his thumb pressed and stroked her palm.

Alisha also noticed. She glanced down at their joined hands; when she looked up again the warm color had returned to her cheeks, but she didn't pull herself free. Her eyes moved over his face quickly, as if seeing it for the first time, and he thought her breath was a little faster than before.

"Yes?" she pressed, when he didn't finish his thought. She sounded tense, but not in a nervous kind of way. At least, not completely.

Ever the honest type, Sorey clarified in a quiet, steady voice:

"I'd… _really_... like to kiss you."

He genuinely had no motives in telling her this, at least none that were selfish or presumptuous. Alisha had the right to know why he was acting so strangely, he figured—and if it made her uncomfortable, better that she know now and say so rather than suffer more of his odd behavior and inappropriate thoughts.

He heard her inhale, low and sharp—but she still didn't pull away. She didn't answer, either, but her roaming gaze trailed one last time from the lower part of his face to his eyes and back.

Sorey wasn't about to make any assumptions. He neither advanced nor backed down, but watched her eyes for a sign. When they stayed where they were and wouldn't meet his, he swallowed and added, "But I know that's not—it's out of line, and I won't—I'm not asking you to—"

He was interrupted by Alisha leaning up and gently pressing her mouth to his.

For a moment he was too stunned to react. With eyes closed Alisha lingered in place, her soft lips still and her warm breath trembling. Her grip on his hand had tightened and she was leaning into him more heavily. Sorey wasn't sure if skin normally had a scent to it, but hers did: something clean, with a hint of flowers.

That slow, pulsing warmth inside him was now racing and twisting, buzzing through his veins like the hum of thunder.

Alisha's eyes opened again, slightly, watching him through a mostly-lidded gaze, and he felt her breathe in quickly as the air around her seemed to shift—uncertainty, maybe, since he still hadn't responded.

That was all the assurance he needed to kiss her back.

He did so gently and patiently, curbing that simmering urge to test his boundaries any further. He pushed a little, pulled a little, and paused to let her do the same, both of them uncertain but curious. They fell into a rhythm of sorts, exchanging tentative touches and brushes, occasionally hesitating and stealing glimpses at the other, just to be sure. Somewhere along the way, their fingers intertwined and held to each other with the same careful strength.

Alisha was the one to break away, but slowly, reluctantly, and only by way of lowering her head a little. She didn't withdraw, didn't let go of his hand, but she didn't look up, either. "Did… ah… did that… help?" she asked in a small voice.

It took Sorey a moment to remember what she meant. "Oh—the—yeah, it… yeah." Even he could tell that didn't sound convincing, although his breathlessness didn't help. Her kiss had satisfied his curiosity but inflamed the desire. Everything in him wanted to lean in and steal another touch. "I mean, it—it really did, I just…" He breathed a quiet, self-conscious laugh. "It's a little hard to think. I'm… being selfish now," he murmured.

She raised her head and he felt his pulse speed up again. He'd always thought she was pretty, but now her flushed, upturned face and cautiously curious eyes, bright in the moonlight and reflecting something he'd never seen before, had him wondering why he'd never noticed just _how_ pretty.

Her gaze drifted shyly to the side. "Then it was… alright?" she wondered, her breath brushing his skin. It was such a strange contrast from her usual confidence.

He wanted to kiss her in answer. Instead: "More than alright."

Her eyes flitted down to his mouth and back up again. She closed her eyes briefly, as if gathering herself, but when she opened them again there was still a dazed look about her. "Then…" Another downward glance, and this time the look lingered. She leaned a little closer. "Would you…?"

"Yeah—" The word was barely out before he kissed her again.

They were both a little bolder this time. There was less caution and more concentration in each touch, less rhythm in favor of haste, and more than once they bumped noses or lips hard enough to smart, or missed their mark entirely. After a sheepish smile or an apologetic huff they would keep going, slowing their pace until they felt comfortable again and then kissing a bit quicker and deeper.

At some point they turned towards one another fully. Alisha's hands alighted delicately along his shoulders; Sorey's stayed at his sides, unsure where to go and not to be trusted with those foreign urges egging him on, but he took a half-step closer that tilted her head back and made her fingers tighten ever so slightly.

He didn't realize he was pushing against her until they both came to a stop, her body caught between his and the rail. The abruptness caught him off guard and knocked him back to his senses, somewhat, and he broke off the kiss. "Sorry," he panted, "I—" His words were smothered as she pulled him down and kissed him again.

It surprised him. So did her fingers gliding through his hair, and then her nails lightly scratching his scalp. In the space of a heartbeat she'd gone from shy kisses to touching him like _this_, forward and intense and certain, and for an instant his logical mind slipped back in control long enough to objectively wonder whether hers was a conscious decision or she, too, was mingling with base impulses.

As startled as he was, that didn't stop him from kissing her back with the same decided but gentle fervor. He leaned into both her and the kiss, his hands slipping past her sides to grip the rail—partly to mind his weight, partly to deny and redirect the increasing temptation to put his hands on her.

Her touch was light as it traced his jaw line, trailed down his neck, and then settled against his chest. There her strong fingers fisted in his shirt, holding him in place, and that bit of boldness earned the same in return: Sorey took one more step to close the last of the space between them. Chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, he didn't pin her so much as give her a light push—deliberate enough to emphasize that it was intentional, but light enough to leave her plenty of room to push him away or slip out from under him if she so desired.

She did neither.

Her hands found his sides, and then the small of his back, as daring as his own were shy and urging him even closer, their mouths and their hips as the focal points. The sensation made him bite down without thinking, accidentally snagging her lip instead of his own, and he quickly let go, about to apologize again—but her nails dug into his spine and a quiet hum sounded in her throat. He didn't think it was a negative sound.

He repeated the motion, now with more care, and she drew in a shaky breath that he felt as a breeze against his lips and a shiver against his chest and sides and hips, everywhere her soft frame curved along his own sturdier one.

The burning urge to _touch her_ was overwhelming now. Sorey finally conceded, but only by settling one hand against the side of her throat, his fingers caressing the back of her neck while his thumb traced her thundering pulse. Her lips parted and her hum was closer to a moan.

She was soft and warm, trusting and giving—but the tension inside him felt tighter, impatient, increasingly frustrated, as if it wasn't enough. He felt overheated and shaky and antsy.

The hot feeling wanted more. It wanted to test his limits. It wanted to kiss her harder and feel more of her skin under his hands, to pull her closer and trace those curves and taste the skin of her throat, her arms—

Sorey broke the kiss and pulled back, forcefully and immediately shutting down those thoughts. With an agitated frown he stepped away from her to break off all contact, even though it meant tugging free of her hold. The night suddenly felt cold.

Alisha stared up at him curiously, concerned, her face flushed and her lips a deeper shade than he remembered. "Sorey?" Her tone matched her expression.

He smiled despite his inner turmoil, aiming for warmth but coming off troubled. "Sorry, I… ah…" His voice was off, gruff and a little too deep. "I was… pushing my luck, I think. I don't want to do that to you." If respecting her was becoming that much of a struggle, he needed to remove himself from the temptation. It was as simple as that.

She blinked, and then her blush flared brighter as she avoided his gaze. "N-No, it… I didn't mind… You did nothing wrong."

Was she… disappointed? Or just embarrassed? It was hard to say, but Sorey wasn't about to dwell on it. These thoughts and actions—most of them—weren't him. They were raw desire and circumstantial attraction, by-products of a puzzling cause-and-effect. However Alisha felt—about this, about him—she deserved more than that. She deserved honesty; she deserved someone with a clear head and forthright intentions, neither of which he could wholly attest to at present.

"Even so… I've been selfish enough already. It's probably best to stop now before I take your kindness for granted." This time his smile was sincere. Taking her hands in his, he leaned down and gave a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. He didn't linger. "I do feel a lot better now. Thank you, Alisha. I owe you."

It was a half-truth at the worst. Physically he was probably worse off, but internally he was satisfied—he knew what this was now, and he knew he could resist it. His heat wasn't quite gone yet, having simply dropped from a boil to a simmer, but he would deal with it, he told himself. He could look at it as an extension of Igraine's trial; maybe that would make it easier to bear. Maybe.

Alisha's return smile was shy and a little crooked as she looked up at him. "No… you don't." She quickly looked away again, clearing her throat quietly. She rubbed at her arms and he wondered if she felt the same chill he did.

* * *

"So, uh… about the… spiritual powers," Sorey began. He watched Lailah's face for a sign as she walked beside him, but it remained open and neutral.

"Yes?"

"Has there ever… has a Shepherd ever… ah…" He made a face as he rethought his wording. It was still early and they were practically alone as they made their way along Marlind's main road, but that didn't make this any less awkward. "Are there any other… side effects, I guess, of obtaining them?"

"Hmm… not that I'm aware of." She tilted her head curiously. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not… _wrong_, per se… I mean, it… _is_ different, and I've felt it ever since we left the shrine, so…"

"It?"

He was pretty sure he knew what to call it at this point, but he refrained, wary of making it sound worse than it was. "I've just felt… really hot, but not feverish hot. And I've just kind of… noticed things that I wouldn't… Uh, but it's mostly just—feeling like I want something, but that's not—"

Suddenly Lailah stopped and went rigidly straight, her eyes wide. "Sorey! Where did you go last night?"

He mirrored her expression. "You were awake?"

"Please don't avoid the question!" She had an intense, focused look in her gaze that made him take an unconscious step back. "Tell me truthfully—did you act on that feeling?"

"I didn't—I mean, that's not why I left—exactly—I just couldn't sleep, but—then I ran into Alisha, and—"

"_Alisha!"_ She looked taken aback—and then she stepped closer, managing to appear taller despite the difference in their heights. "Sorey!"

"W-What?" he sputtered, utterly at a loss now.

"Did you do anything irresponsible?" She looked almost morbidly serious.

"What—no, I don't know what you're..."

Oh.

_Oh._

Now he _was_ embarrassed, slightly.

"No! It wasn't anything like that!" Lailah stayed where she was, her scrutinizing stare boring into him as though searching for any hint of falsehood. "I just kissed her!" he blurted hastily. "Or—she kissed me, really, but—it went both ways—but that was it!"

That focused look stayed locked onto his face for a couple more heartbeats—and then Lailah abruptly retreated, everything harsh and doubtful in her expression fading quickly into a sorrowful, apologetic look. "Oh, Sorey, I'm so sorry. I'd wondered why it felt much less intense this time, but I never imagined you might have siphoned some of it."

Sorey stared at her, quickly putting two and two together. "Wait—you mean _you_ normally feel it?"

She looked self-conscious despite her smile. "Well, yes. Logically speaking, obtaining such a high level of seraphic power would affect both the Shepherd and the seraph of the associated element. Much like when you formed the pacts with us, a fever and fatigue should have been the most you experienced—if even that much, given your current power."

"And the seraph? They would normally experience… this?"

Lailah colored slightly. "You described it as a sort of heat, yes? The side effects of Musiphe's power do tend to manifest as a feeling of longing. Although I've heard that some have felt something closer to bloodlust. Perhaps it depends on the personality of the seraph," she mused.

"Okay, but—why am _I_ feeling it, then?"

Her thoughtful look returned. "That _is_ a curious problem. Especially since it usually doesn't last for more than an hour for me."

"An hour?" he echoed incredulously. "It's been almost two days for me!"

"On the bright side, you're closer to being over it than you were two days ago!" Lailah proposed brightly.

Sorey sighed. "So… you don't know when it'll go away."

"I'm sorry," she said more seriously. "But once we get moving, your thoughts won't be so idle, so it should be easier to ignore."

If she spoke from experience, then that was better than nothing. "Hopefully," he agreed. "Thanks for explaining."

"Of course."

"So… if this is the effect of the spiritual power of fire, what about the oth—"

Lailah gave a loud hum as she suddenly did an about-face on the balls of her feet. "Well, well, the morning won't last forever and we still need to have breakfast before we set out so come on, Sorey, don't dawdle! You know how grumpy Edna can be when we make her wait!" Without looking back she set off at a brisk pace back towards the inn.

He held back a second sigh, grateful that he'd at least gotten as much out of her as he had, and followed at a slower pace.


End file.
